Full Circle
by addictive-stigmata
Summary: Shortly after the operation, Thalassa learns the truth of her husband's death. In the memory rush that follows, she remembers their story - from the beginning to the tragic end - and the twists and turns along the way. Thalassa/Zak. Chapter 2 up!
1. Prologue, Prestige, Magic Panties

**A/N.**

**MASSIVE SPOILERS**** for AJ:AA cases 4-1 and 4-4.**

**Don't read unless you've completed the game!**

_This is a companion piece to my other Thalassa story, "Are You Watching Closely?," so you might want to check that out. Here's why the story you are about to read was not added as a new chapter to the story that came before it._

_My first story dealt with Thalassa's surgery and her reaction to it, but never detailed her memories. This one deals with what I feel are key events and feelings in her life - in this particular memory, the naming, birth, and raising of Trucy, and the love Thalassa had for Zak. As for this story, I was thinking about making it a multi-chapter affair - a whole collection of Thalassa's lost memories, all written in her perspective. I may or may not add onto it in the future._

_I hope you like this work. If you enjoy it, feel free to review. I am always trying to improve upon my writing, and your feedback helps!_

_- I Brake For Franzy // AsakiPhreek_

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When I got my memory back, my secondary concern, next to the children (the mysteries about whom I had solved just recently) was Zak. He, too, was a magician, and a talented one at that. My father said he was born with a wand in his hand. I suppose that you could say that about all the Gramaryes - our troupe was top of the line - but my feelings for Zak extended beyond simple admiration. I was in awe of the man.

A little while after my surgery was completed and I had fully recovered from all that had happened, I was informed, by way of a certain grungy-looking pianist, that Zak was gone - the very thought of it brings a tear to my eye. The operation, which restored every part of my life I had forgotten, dredged up such warm memories - but they were all left to wither with the sudden news of his passing. At night, I shiver. My only company is the darkness in my unlit bedroom, a haunting reminder of the time when I used to be blind. And then, I try to remember.

Our wedding was held at the Gramarye Museum, and I recall that when it ended, each and every one of my pores cried out for his skin against me again. It did happen later, but to a much greater degree than I expected, and a child came out of it. I suppose it's a newlywed thing - let the family tree branch out - but that's what I wanted. It was another shot at forgiveness for abandoning Apollo. A second chance, a true test of mettle. That's what Zak wanted, too. "Why plant an apple tree and expect it not to bear fruit?" he asked. "We cannot let the Gramarye bloodline die, Thalassa; we cannot let ourselves die." Those were his words, and for some reason, I didn't forget them. They stuck with me from when I was pronounced Thalassa Enigmar, when I performed as Thalassa Gramarye, when I sang as Lamiroir, to when the operation went through and I was myself once again.

We didn't really think of names until we learned the child's gender. It turned out that we'd be having a baby girl. In the end, we called her Trucy. Zak laid the groundwork for the name. "She'll be beautiful, just like you, and matching your beauty...well, that takes a lot more than magic. It was impossible, until now. She's gonna have your eyes, I know it. She'll see right through you."

_She'll see right through you._ I chewed on those words for a bit, throwing them around to see if they would stick. She'll see through you, see the true you, truly see you. And then it came: _Trucy. _It was a flashbulb moment: the lights were fleeting, but the marks they left on your line of vision stayed for what seemed like an eternity. I carried the epiphany with me as I approached Zak with the name.

"I like," he said approvingly. "Kind of exotic-sounding, really. And there's nothing wrong with that at all. Please tell me, how many people are lucky enough to be named Thalassa?" And, to be honest, I couldn't think of anyone else but myself and a sea goddess, the latter of whom you couldn't really call a person. It made me a bit prideful, and I blushed.

Zak noticed my cheeks and let out a hearty laugh. "Why, people should say stuff like that to you all the time. That color looks good on you."

"You're starting to sound like Valant," I replied, but gladly took the compliment anyway.

There are no eyes like a Gramarye's eyes - that's what Zak always said, and he was right. Backstage, I would entertain him with very simple card tricks, those "take-a-card-and-don't-tell-me" deals. We did it for kicks - to a Gramarye, cards were like alphabet blocks; you could spell as many words as you'd like, but deep down inside you knew everything, and it was child's play. When I held up the chosen card, asking if it was indeed his, something tightened around my wrist. "No, not at all," he'd say firmly, and the pressure around my wrist would get even stronger, almost to the point of constriction. "You can't fool me," I told him, and pointed to the bracelet. At that moment, he'd laugh, and the bracelet expanded to its original state. The charade never got old. I think it was the thrill of seeing his stern expression - perfected by many years of tricks both impromptu and prepared - crumble into pieces.

That's what happened when Trucy came along.

It's not usually a magician's job to be surprised, but when Trucy entered this world, Zak's eyes widened more than they ever had. He took a liking to the child since she practically took her first breath. While other girls were playing with dolls, Trucy was in her room passing coins through handkerchiefs or trying to perfect the Si Stebbins order. She was her father's child, no doubt about it, but she borrowed a good deal from me, too. I tried to dig up another bracelet from my trunk, but she took a liking to wearing gloves and refused to put it on. Had I known that I would be shot near-fatally, I would have glued it to her wrist and told her to deal with it.

Most importantly, Trucy had taken an almost unhealthy liking to a pair of bloomers, which she affectionately dubbed her "magic panties." From this one thing is made quite clear: Trucy did not beat around the bush with names. A hat was a hat. A man in a hat was Mr. Hat, whether he was a Gramarye, a Blackstone, or even a Blaine. And, much to the chagrin of those around her, panties were panties.

As a mother, you could imagine my fright, but Zak didn't worry about it much. "She's little, yet," he said. "If you want this kid to be a magician, let her expand her repertoire with anything she finds." He let out a sigh. "...Even panties."

And so it was. Not by my or Zak's will, but hers. While we performed with hats and ropes and silken scarves, Trucy fooled with her magic panties. Despite her objections, we just couldn't let her onstage with them. It was a risk that wasn't really worth taking. Even Zak and I barely suppressed the urge to crack a bawdy joke or two.

But hey - we loved Trucy, with or without those freaky little bloomers of hers. And I still love Zak, with or without him near me. I have gained, and in turn, I must lose. Such is the ebb and flow of life - rising, falling, and crashing down. It is a wave, controlled by only the moon above and the ocean below, both beyond my fragile reach. And with the assurance that Trucy is safe and sound, I know I'm not riding this wave alone.

Let's just hope that she buried those panties well beneath the shoreline.

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6.17.09

_**Note: **__There is a mention of Trucy trying to perfect the "Si Stebbins order." In layman's terms, Si Stebbins is a special prearrangement of an ordinary deck of cards, set up in sequence so that cards can be divined with simple calculations. It is also the stage name of performer William Coffrin, who popularized the system._


	2. Out of the Blue

Zak came to us in the form of an eager apprentice, long before I was even married to anyone. Even after I had been, I hadn't fallen in love with him immediately, you see. It was a matter of time. I was still mourning the loss of my first husband, known onstage as Justice the Great. He had managed to meet his fate accidentally. Unlike me, he hadn't been hidden in a contrabass case or shot by a fancy Gramarye Golden Gun. He'd died in the water chamber.

Another thing that differed about his death and mine was that his death was real.

This explains why I was initially blind to his charm. I went through the routines as usual, not acknowledging anything out of the ordinary. But one day, Zak invited the troupe to dinner for our best season yet. At the close of our run at the Boland Art House, a local theatre dating back to the vaudeville era, we had grossed more than we ever had. This performance introduced an early version of the Quick-Draw Shootem, whose subsequent variations would prove even more successful until my disappearance. Magnifi, who visibly favored Zak, agreed to the outing, and off we went.

It was a fancy little joint, much nicer than the coffee shops we tended to frequent during our lunch breaks. The whole Troupe was seated together at a single table. I sat next to my father, who was then well, and would not grow ill until several years later. Zak and Valant sat across from us on the other side, performing impromptu magic tricks in friendly competition. After several rounds back and forth, they asked me to show them something. "Come on, Thalassa," Zak said, with a cunning smile on his face. "What do you have up your sleeve?" His eyes carried a hint of friendly challenge. Next to him, a bashful Valant was also smiling, but his smile was coupled with a scarlet blush.

"Nothing but air, considering I have no sleeves to hide anything under."

"Oh, come _on_!" Zak reached over and touched what I considered to be the collar of my dress, which wrapped around my arms and, although easily movable, served as flimsy - alright, I'll admit it - sleeves. "I've got something." He took his hand off of my collar-sleeve and pulled out a coin. "Aww, I knew it. Hey, you won't be using this anytime soon, will you?"

"A quarter won't get you anything these days, so no."

Zak smiled. "On the contrary. Here, let me get you a drink. There's a special tonight. Perfect timing, huh?" He turned to our table. "Valant, I trust that you'll wait for the food. Magnifi, don't let him eat anything that isn't his." He walked towards the bar area, leading me by the hand.

I was twenty-one and possessed a valid ID, so I threw my caution (though not all of it) to the wind. At the time, I considered Zak's little coin trick a flirt and maybe a modest, yet glaring physical advance. The man was handsome, yes, but I was still a grieving widow. At twenty-one measly years old, nonetheless. My father said I was growing up too fast. I think he was right. But I also thought it was very, very good. Twenty-one going on thirty, the older the wiser.

Zak and I sat next to each other at the bar. He ordered something hard, but he was smart enough not to go over the edge. This surprised me - he was headstrong, I'll give you that. I went for a strange fruity blend, diluted and soft as could be, and sipped it slowly.

"You know," Zak began, pushing two quarters towards the eager bartender, "I'm starting to like you. A lot."

My intelligent response: "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. I know about your loss. You know, Justice. And I feel stupid for saying this, but, Thalassa, you are a very fine young woman."

My throat tightened. "Ah...thank you. But tell me, how did you know about Justice?"

"At night, I heard you weeping," he said, and leaned towards me. "You cry too much, Thalassa." I very nearly cowered back, but his warmth was strangely inviting. "But you're a strong lady. And for that, I admire you...deeply." He grasped my hand, but was taken aback by the sudden constriction of my bracelet around my wrist. "Ah. Does that happen often?"

"Just nerves," I said. "Just...nerves." But it was something deeper than that. Unbridled feelings. Sudden admiration. Want. Need.

"You can't be nervous," he assured me, and stared me straight in the eyes. "There's nothing to be nervous about. But to be honest, I've got more nerves than you right now, and it's all because...because...uh, can I tell you something?"

"Please do."

He paused and took a deep breath. "Thalassa, I don't know how to say this, but...I feel strongly for you. Very strongly. I hope you understand. I wouldn't call it love, but I wouldn't call it a crush...most certainly not."

It was my turn to be taken aback. I shrank a little in my seat as he held my head in his gloved hands, staring me straight in the eyes. "On second thought," he said, "maybe that's what it is - love..." He leaned in to kiss me, and I accepted - simply because I had no choice. He took one hand from beneath my neck and placed it on my back, to keep me from falling off the barstool from the force of it all. I shook in his grasp. My heart was a jackhammer under the folds of my dress as our lips eventually locked together, undulating madly over open mouths.

When I pulled away, the feelings within me conflicted - anxious and relaxed; primal and dignified; starving and full. No, it wasn't my first kiss, but it left me with all the excitement and craving that such a kiss usually brings, only to an amplified degree. I sat there with him, drinking and talking, when Valant ran up and reminded us that our food was getting cold.

I was filled with such a lovely warmth that I decided that cold food was the last thing I needed.

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A few months before Apollo was born, I had kept a book on my nightstand. It was an old paperback on magic, dating back to the late seventies - nearly a decade before my birth. The pages had long since yellowed and adopted a flea-market smell. I didn't mind. In fact, I'd dog-eared it numerous times to mark tricks I especially liked.

I had read the whole book during my first pregnancy, but I'd since forgotten its contents. Apollo was somewhere else, Zak was sleeping beside me, and I had woken up a bit too early. I got up, reached for the bookshelf, and opened the magic primer for the first time.

When I reached the section on patter and presentation, I read the first page halfway through before one sentence caught my eye.

_"The popular conception of a magician being a tall dark gentleman with a goatee and beguiling manner fits about one man in a million."_

My laughter echoed so loudly through the tiny bedroom that I had briefly roused Zak, who grunted once and fell back to sleep.

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**A/N.**

I'm out of ideas, so I dunno whether I should continue this or not, as this may or may not pass as a suitable ending. I suck at writing romances. Tch, this came out so fluffy it wasn't even funny. XD

There are theatres named after people whose surname is Boland, but the Boland Art House in this fic is nonexistent. I just thought the name sounded cool.

I have no clue what Apollo's father's name is, but "Justice the Great" would make a cool stage name.

The book that Thalassa kept on her nightstand is an allusion to one I actually own. That is an actual sentence from said book (I claim no responsibility for it.) They may as well have printed "ZAK" in bold print in place of it.

6.26.09 - 7.22.09 (am I a slacker or what?!)_  
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